


9th December

by HedwigsTalons



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: M/M, Reminiscing, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons
Summary: It's 9th December and Isak has somewhere he needs to be.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93





	9th December

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt in the SKAM fandom so I'm still getting the feel of writing the characters. Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr where I go by always-evak for SKAM stuff.

"Isak, where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

Isak pauses in the act of grabbing his jacket, guilt written clear across his face and calling him a liar. The fact he's already got his shoes on doesn't help his case.

"Isak?" There's a single raised eyebrow from Even where he's leaning against the doorframe to the lounge, watching as Isak squirms uncomfortably. 

"I'm just heading out. Okay?" Isak responds with twin raised eyebrows of his own and a glare of teenage rebellion that isn't often seen now that he's no longer a teenager.

"Jonas?"

Isak shrugs a non-answer, throws a jacket on over his hoodie, pulls the hood up over his snapback and heads out into the grim night. 

Even watches the apartment door click closed then rolls off his own doorframe and heads back into the lounge. He's used to Isak's moods, and after 4 years together he can read them pretty well, but there's something about Isak's demeanor tonight that doesn't sit right. Pulling out his phone he quickly scrolls through the contacts to J and starts tapping out a message. 

Til Jonas:  
_Is everything okay with Isak?_

The typing bubbles appear almost immediately and he sits, staring at the screen.

Fra Jonas:  
_You'll have to ask him yourself_

The message does nothing to quell the misgivings Even has. There had been nothing to suggest that things had been anything but fine, if anything Isak had been in good spirits looking forward to spending Christmas in their new apartment. The move to a place that actually had a separate bedroom and lounge meant the chance to have a proper Christmas tree and Isak has displayed almost childlike glee at the prospect of picking out new decorations. They were settled. Happy.

At least everything had seemed okay until today. Isak had been fine over breakfast but this evening had been a different story, his boyfriend had been distracted and distant, preoccupied with something weighing heavy on his mind.

It's a short scroll up from J to I and this time Even hits the dial button. He's not entirely surprised when the call gets rejected after two rings, shunting him through to the electronic tones of voicemail. He doesn't bother leaving a message. All he can do is sit and wait and hope that Isak comes back to him.

***

It’s not really a surprise when the phone in his pocket starts vibrating, the ringtone cutting through the night air. Isak isn’t too sure why he couldn’t tell Even where he was headed, except Even probably would have insisted on coming too and for some reason Isak knows he needs to make this pilgrimage alone. He gives the screen a cursory glance to confirm it’s Even before hitting the icon to reject the call. The lock screen flashes back up and his steps quicken when he sees the time, their new apartment is closer to Nissen than the old one but he’s still going to be cutting it fine. Tonight, just like four years ago, it’s vitally important he makes it in time. 

His breath in making clouds in the freezing air and he’s running, dodging across roads and skittering round corners until he’s there. The area looks the same as ever, the bench framed by the bush behind it, perhaps a little more paint has flaked away from the weathered planks but essentially it’s the same. This time there is no feeling of dread at seeing the seat empty, no stomach plunging heart stopping moment of fear that he had been too late, instead it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to share this moment with anyone.

He jumps up to perch on the back, the same way Even had been sitting that night during the kosagruppa meeting. He’s come a long way since that night. So much has changed since that shared smoke that got interrupted by Emma. There have been good times and bad but for some reason this bench with it’s scuffed yellow paint has become an anchor point for him.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time. 21:20. There’s just time grab the crumpled envelope out of his other pocket, the one he knows Jonas is responsible for despite the only writing on it being Isak, for ikveld, he would recognise that untidy scrawl anywhere and anyway, who else but Jonas would think of it. The envelope is empty apart from a single rolled joint. He doesn’t smoke much now, the responsibilities of life mean that there are much more pressing uses for his and Even’s limited funds, a bigger apartment for starters, and it doesn’t seem fair to smoke when Even has given it up completely. He makes a mental note to thank Jonas who still seems to know him better than he knows himself sometimes.

There’s the spark of a lighter and then he’s drawing in the first breath as the clock ticks over to 21:21.

It’s their time. It’s his time. 21:21 has punctuated his life and so he settles down to smoke and think, the same as he has done on this night for the last three years and will probably continue to do. 

There’s a ritual now and he finds himself going through the motions, pulling out his phone as the first buzz of weed hits his system and scrolling through the photos. It’s a different phone to the one he had 4 years ago but he has a screengrab. The text message fills the screen and he reads through the words even though he knows them by heart. As he reads he can almost see the two figures meeting in front of the bench, his past self rushing in from the street to be confronted by devastating loneliness until Even appears like a fallen angel through the door that is currently locked and in darkness, 

The joint burns down as he replays the scene in his mind’s eye. Their night of salvation. The night he chose, once and for all, to leave behind the baggage of the past, to leave behind his parents. The night he chose Even, fragile and broken as he was. But Even wasn’t the only broken one. 9th December was the night he himself became whole again. 

Only when the last stub has been ground out against the planks that have witnessed so much does he leave the silent square and turn his steps for home.

***

The sound of the key in the lock startles Even out of his brooding. He hadn’t expected Isak back so soon, hadn’t even been sure if he would return at all that night, so it was with some relief that he turned to watch as Isak sidled in through the door, beads moisture glittering on the curls that have escaped his hood. He knows better than to crowd Isak when something is wrong, knows that if his boyfriend needed his comfort he would seek it out as he so often had, so however much he yearns to reach out and crush Isak against him instead he gives Isak space to toe off his shoes and rehang his jacket. It takes a lot of willpower to stay on the couch but somehow he manages it.

Isak appears in the lounge a moment later and there’s serenity about him that hadn’t been there earlier. He flops down on the couch and drags Even’s arm around him, settling himself down comfortably. Even uses his free hand to throw Isak’s snapback into a corner so he can press a kiss to the top of that bonde head pressed against him. It’s as though the entire last hour hasn’t happened except the Isak of an hour ago was decidedly more grumpy.

“So, are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

Isak nestles in deeper, gently entwining his fingers with Even’s. He knows he probably owes Even a reason for his abrupt departure but he’s not meant to be the sentimental one in this relationship. Even is the artist that ascribes meaning and significance to things, he’s the counterbalance, the one that rolls his eyes at traditions. The role reversal makes him feel awkward. 

His first year of observance had been wholly coincidental. Mostly coincidental. Okay, he hadn’t really needed to take the route past Nissen on the way to the party but it wasn’t that far out of his way and so he’d found himself at the bench, a bag of beers in one hand and a pouch of weed in his pocket at just the right time to pause and take a moment out of his life to reflect on when things had changed. Of course afterwards he’d had to explain to Jonas what had taken him so long which was why he knew about the whole thing. Even hadn’t been at the party, had pulled a late shift at work, and for some reason best known to himself Isak had never mentioned his visit to the bench.

The following two occasions Even had been busy too, 2018 had been another work shift, 2019 he had been setting up for an exhibition for part of his university course. On both occasions Isak had made use of time alone to bend his steps towards Nissen and reflect on the past year and everything Even meant to him.

This year should have been no different. A quiet moment to himself with just the ghosts of the past for company. Except this year Even had been home and now he was worried, Isak could feel the tension in Even’s body, the frame moulded round his not quite so soft and yielding as usual. 

“You’ve been smoking.” The tone isn’t quite accusatory but there is bluntness with a slight edge of disappointment.

“Jonas gave it to me.”

“You’ve been with Jonas?”

“No.” And he pulls the now empty envelope from his pocket in answer to the questions he knows are coming, the words ‘for tonight’ clearly visible. “He sent it earlier.”

“But why?”

And this is the moment Isak knows he has to choose. The choice between baring his soul or brushing the moment aside because as much as he might try and claim he doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body the truth is that moment is etched into him profoundly. And because this is Even he chooses the truth.

“It’s 9th December.”

There’s a slight shift of confusion and that's perhaps not a surprise, at the time Even had been in the riding the peaks and troughs of the vicious cycle of mania and while he might be able to place the events at some time in mid-December, the 9th is unlikely to spring to mind specifically.

“The night of the Christmas concert,” Isak elaborates slightly.

“The last time you saw your parents,” it’s little more than a whisper as the realisation of what night this is hits Even. 9th December 2016 had been the last physical interaction Isak had had with the people who used to be his family, the only contact afterwards had been one very explosive phone call and the occasional money transfer until even that had fizzled out. It’s enough to make Isak irate.

“Nei!” he exclaims as he twists towards Even, the vehement anger on his face at the mention of his parents enough to scare off lesser men than Even Bech Næsheim. “This is nothing to do with them and they do not get to be a part of this,” his voice softens before he continues, “it’s the night I realised I couldn’t bear to lose you.” A whisper, “it’s the night I thought I had lost you. Forever.”

“I'm sorry I scared you.” Even now understands why Isak had disappeared even if he isn't certain what he has been doing to mark the occasion. For his own part he's not quite sure what would have happened if Isak hadn't arrived that night and he had been left to face his demons alone. He's glad he never had to find out. 

"It wasn't your fault. But every year since…" he pauses and takes a deep breath, "every year since I've gone back to our bench. It's hard to explain why but it's kinda grounding. Makes me grateful for everything I've got. For us. But I wasn't ready to share that moment. It had to be just me. Alone."

"Oh Isak." Even pulls him in closer, burying his nose in blonde curls. "Du er ikke alene."


End file.
